Old Man Serra
by IheartPadalecki
Summary: Winchester’s don’t believe in religion. But it’s not the religion or the religious action that matters it is merely the fact that belief is enough to drive person until death… or longer.
1. CarmelByTheSea

Summary: Winchester's don't believe in religion. But it's not the religion or the religious action that matters; it is merely the fact that belief is enough to drive person until death… or longer.

Disclaimer: I always forget this thing… Don't own the boy's, although I very much wish I did. Carmel, CA is a real place. San Carlos Street, Wayside Inn, Ocean Avenue, Mission San Carlos de Borromeo and all the facts and people related to it are real.

A/N

Alright I caved. I got this wonderful idea about writing a one shot about little Sam and little Dean in Carmel. And I was looking for a reason that they might be in Carmel, and my research brought back a memory of a book I really liked, and some interesting religious stuff. Anyways, I got this idea. And I'm going to see where this goes. I promise I'll finish this, and I promise it won't take me long. This I swear, and maybe I'll go back to Those Who Do Not Speak, now that I've had a little break… Hope you enjoy.

Chapter One

Dean turned the impala down the main street of Carmel, California. They were currently on Ocean Avenue.

"Man, this place has one street and that's it?" Dean commented as he made his way down looking for the first motel he could find. "It's like a fucking old people's town. I swear on it Sam, all there is here is dogs and old people!"

"Whatever man," Sam said as he kept his head buried in the maps unfolded in front of him. "I think we take a left here, San Carlos Street."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say Clark."

"Does that mean you're Lewis?"

"Well yeah. Don't worry, I thought about it hard and long and decided Lewis was the better looking one."

"Lewis are you okay? I hope you didn't hurt yourself."

"Haha," they were now outside the Wayside Inn. "I'm going to run in and get us a room, stay here. Don't get lost."

The door slammed shut before Sam had a chance to reply. Sitting alone in the passenger seat of the impala, Sam realized Dean was going to take a while. He leaned back and closed his eyes, and that's when he remembered why Carmel was such a familiar place.

_There was only one thing he liked about moving around so much. Even though he was only five years old, he immediately took to liking the scenes his family passed in their car. With his pouting lips and constant talking, he usually convinced his dad to stop at some point just to jump out and look at whatever site was staring back at him. So when John maneuvered the impala around the bend, and Dean noticed the wide eyed look on his little brother's face, he just knew there were in for a stop. John had been staring at the road, but the gasp that escaped the five year olds mouth was enough for him to pull over at the next vista point. _

_As soon as the car came to a halt, the five year old fumbled with his seat belt. It was a hard task, getting the seat belt off. But he had too, otherwise he wouldn't be able to get out and look at the ocean that sat in front of him, daring him to come out. _

_"Dean, I can't get it!" his little voice called from the back seat. _

_"It's okay Sammy, I'll get it," Dean replied chuckling to himself as he reached over to help Sam. As soon as Dean let him free, Sam was out the door and standing right on the edge of the highway in Carmel, California. "Sam not so close, you don't want to fall over."_

_"I'm not gonna fall!" he screamed back towards the car, never allowing his gaze to be torn from the ocean. Something about it was mesmerizing, it held his gaze. He didn't understand it, but he couldn't look away. He didn't notice when Dean and John joined him, each taking one side of him. Sam was so far gone looking into the ocean, and Dean couldn't help it; he grabbed a hold of Sam's elbow. _

_"Let go Dean!" for such a little guy, he had a pretty whinny voice._

_"Shut up Sammy," nine year old Dean responded._

_"Dean, language," John added._

_"Right, sorry dad," Dean started moving back towards the car, pulling Sam along with him. "Let's get on. There's more ocean later Sammy. Just look out the window."_

_The three Winchester's piled back into the car, and made their way towards town. They had been driving along the coast for a while, and the whole time little Sammy couldn't take his eyes off the ocean. It taunted him, telling him he couldn't do it._

_"One day, I'm gonna be so big, and Ima swim all the way across to the end," he was still caught up in it. But he wanted to beat it, he didn't like to be taunted. "Dean, what's at the end?"_

_"There's a wall," Dean smirked. "Once you get to the end, you're going to hit a wall. It'll hurt, so you might not want to do it."_

_"I don't care, I wanna hit it," Sam added as-a-matter-of-factly._

_"You can't even swim Sam," Dean pointed out as he glanced in John's direction who was watching the conversation with a grin._

_"Yes I can."_

_"No you can't."_

"_Yeah, daddy said I could do anything. Right daddy, didn't you say I could?"_

"_Sure Sammy," John replied. "But first you have to learn how to swim. I didn't say you don't know how to do everything. But if you try, you can learn how."_

"_Well, I'm gonna learn how to! And then Ima swim all the way over there!" His arms moved about wildly showing how far and how excited he was. The car rounded the turn as they made their way towards Ocean Avenue. _

"Sam, let's go," Dean said as he made his way towards the trunk. He propped it open and grabbed his bags leaving it open for Sam. Sam momentarily caught off guard from his memory made his way around towards the trunk. "Hey, maybe we can go up to our room and then you can walk down to the water and swim to the wall."

Apparently Dean had remembered too, and apparently he thought it was funny. Sam slammed the trunk down and walked past Dean, smacking the back of his head as he did.

"Yeah, yeah, which room?"


	2. Old Man Serra

A/N

I forgot to mention. I am not religious. I've never been taught anything about religion. My dad is totally against religion, and religious stuff. If you ask him what he believes in, he says science. So much of my religious understanding comes from having friends that are different religions, and all the research I did for this story. So please don't get offended if I get something wrong or do something bad, I don't mean to. I was going to add another chapter, but I have math homework to do, I know, on a Saturday night…

Chapter Two

"Alright, so dad sent us coordinates to old people's town, what have you got?" Dean asked. As soon as they had made it to the room, Sam had set to the task of researching. The room was decent, kind of complex like. When Dean opened the door, he was greeted by a couch and a TV. But as he walked farther into the room, he noticed a small hallway sort thing. It was only about five big steps long, and on the left end was a bathroom. On the right end there was a single door. The door led to the one bedroom, which unfortunately only had a queen size bed. After deciding it would do, Dean turned towards Sam ready to get over with this hunt.

"Well, there have been some weird deaths at a mission," Sam said, barely looking up from his research. "Get this; three people have died in the last two weeks. All died of mosquito bites that got infected."

"So we're dealing with some sort of bug thing, like in Oklahoma?" Dean asked. He shuttered at the thought of Oklahoma. He hated any kind of bug or rodent, and well Oklahoma and been way to up close and personal with way to many bugs.

"Well I don't think so. Listen to this, Mission San Carlos de Borromeo was founded on June 30th, 1770 by Father Junipero Serra. Father Serra spent the rest of his life as head of the missions in California, founding nine missions in all including his headquarters at our mission. Father Serra died in 1784 and was buried under the sanctuary floor."

"Alright, so we got to find old man Serra and burn his bones?" When Dean was answered with a nod he turned around switched on the TV. "Simple enough, go in, get out, and move on with our lives."

…………………..

They were stealthy. And because of the fact that Dean needed a thrill, he made his way exaggerating every turn and every precaution. Sam was not in the mood for Dean's games at midnight. They made their way slowly down to the sanctuary, finding it with no trouble at all. There was only one good thing about having to burn a famous religious man; his remains were always easy to find. Dean found the grave stone first, and made the first crack. There was much digging to be done, which Sam was extremely thankful for. Dean salted and burned the bones quickly, and then started to make his way towards the exit.

"Dean!" Sam screamed in a whisper. "We can't just leave! We have to wait until the bones burn and put the grave back."

"What? Are you kidding me Sam?"

"Dean, he's an important figure, we have to," Dean swore that one day, Sam would go blind. If Sam kept using those puppy dog eyes Dean would make him go blind so he couldn't. So they waited, and when the burns burned and all was okay, they got back to setting the grave as they had found it.

………………….

It had been two days since they burned Father Serra's bones. Sam had convinced Dean to stay a few extra days, just for the heck of it. But Dean knew that Sam was once again enthralled by the ocean, and didn't have to heart to tear him away from it. Sam opened the motel room door on the second floor and grabbed the newspaper lying on the ground. Hearing the shower still running, Sam sat down on the couch and started reading. He didn't notice it at first, but when he did, he almost fell over.

"Another man killed at Mission San Carlos de Borromeo" the headline read. Still in shock, Sam failed to notice the shower turn off and Dean exit the bathroom in only a towel.

"Sam? You okay?" Sam looked up at Dean, and at a loss of words, handed the newspaper to Dean. "Shit man, I thought we burned all the bones…"

"We did."

"Alright, so we missed something…"


	3. Cafe Napoli

A/N

I'm sorry. Between competing, physical therapy, school, and homework I barely have time to eat, sleep, and shower. So I'm working on the story I promise. I just can't be one of those people who post's everyday…. But I'm leaving for a trip a week from Thursday, which unfortunately means I miss the season finale, but thank god for TIVO, and I WILL watch it, otherwise will die… but anyways, I'm trying to finish this up before then. Expect more this weekend, those days will be the bulk of my writing. So, it's coming. I swear.

Chapter Three

"So, what do we know about this Mission San Carlos de Borromeo?" Dean asked in between sips. There were now back on Ocean Avenue, checking out one of the many café's along the way. "Hey Sam, why do they always have the make such long names? Mission San Carlos de Borromeo, every time I say it, it makes feel like my tongue is going to wrap around my mouth and get stuck."

"Let's just hope for everyone's sake that it does," Sam was quick to cut in. Dean had been going on for the last half an hour, about nothing in all. Sam was pretty tired of his voice, and he was sure that everyone else in Café Napoli was as well.

"Hey, hey, hey, just because I don't have no patience for that research stuff, doesn't mean I'm not useful."

"I never said you weren't useful. Now will you please shut up?"

"Hey Sam?"

"What?"

"I was just thinking, they call this café little Italy sometimes right?"

"Yeah Dean…"

"So technically, we're in Italy. Isn't that funny?"

"Actually, no it isn't," Sam leaned his head against his hand. How could Dean possibly thinking about things like Italy at a time like this? He just didn't understand Dean's thinking process sometimes, but Dean did. Apparently it was all relevant thinking that went on in Dean's head, but Sam had yet to see how.

"Okay Sam, I've got it," and with that Dean walked over to the little counter. Behind it, a petite girl was standing. She had short black hair with those side bangs that were oh-so-in these days. Dean was quick to notice her eyes, there wasn't really anything special about them. They were brown, just like so many others in the world today, but yet they seemed so enthralling. So full of life and for that they were gorgeous. "Hey there," he glanced at the tag on her chest, "Kristin."

"Hi, how can I help you?" Her voice was quite and secluded.

"I'm an investigator looking into the deaths are the mission, and I was wondering if you could help me at all," Dean turned back to wink at Sam was looking at him with disgust. There was no better way than coming straight out, with a lie of course.

"I suppose I could, although I don't really know how I could help."

"Did you know any of the victims?"

"Sure, I knew all of them. Not many people around here that don't know each other."

"Maybe you could tell me about them?"

"Sure, can I meet up with you when I'm off work? I get off soon."

"No problem. Just call me up when you get off," Dean picked up a napkin and wrote his number on it and handed it to the girl.

"Wait, I'm sorry I didn't get your name."

"Andrew Louis, and that over there is my partner, Ian Willison," Dean added nodding in Sam's general direction. "Call me up and we can meet. I really appreciate your help."

"Hey Sam, I got us a meeting."

"Alright Dean, check this out. Father Serra worked hard despite physical ailments which included asthma and a chronic sore on his leg. His superhuman efforts led him to near starvation, bouts of scurvy and hundreds of miles of walking and riding through rough and dangerous terrain. Serra traveled over 24,000 miles in his lifetime."

"You think that's something?"

"No wait, look. In 1987, Pope John Paul II beatified Father Serra, the second of three steps necessary to achieve sainthood."

"Sainthood, what have we got an angel or something?" A few taps later and Sam had an answer.

"Sainthood: In official Church procedures there are three steps to sainthood: one becomes Venerable, Blessed and then a Saint. Venerable is the title given to a deceased person recognized as having lived heroic virtues. To be recognized as a blessed, and therefore beatified, in addition to personal attributes of charity and heroic virtue, one miracle, acquired through the individual's intercession, is required."

"Alright, and I care why?"

"Because Dean, our friend Pope John Paul II beatified Serra, the second step to achieve sainthood, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, I was listening, so?"

"So, Father Serra is a 'heroic' figure."

"Well, I guess we kind of lost our thread huh?"

"No kidding."

"Good thing my plan didn't fall through. I told you Sammy, _my_ research works better, more efficient."

"It's Sam."


	4. Strike One

A/N

Alright, I decided I needed a beta. If anyone's up for it, let me know. I'd appreciate it, and I'd be willing to do the same for you. Thanks to all the reviews, I'm glad you all like it. I extended it more than I was going to, so I added in some stuff. I hope you're all okay with that. I have a funny story to tell you. In science class we were learning about evolution and what not, and these names came up; Dean Falk and Keyt something or the other. But when asked to say them, I read as Dean Falk. Funny, it's De-ann Falk and Kate. I just couldn't help it, but I felt it was so wrong. It's actually not funny now that I say it, but haha it just goes to show how much of a loser I am.

Chapter Four

"Alright so here's the scoop," Dean said as they walked down the street. They were currently heading back towards Café Napoli after a quick run in to the motel. "I'm Andrew Louis, you're Ian Willison. We're private investigators looking into the deaths at the mission. If she asks, friend of yours has a retired parent up here that asked if you could look into it. Got it?"

"Hey Dean," Sam asked as they rounded the corner.

"Yeah?"

"How long did it take you to come up with that?"

"Shut up Sam," Dean replied as he opened the door to the café. "And stick to the plan."

"Yes ma'am," Sam smirked as Dean turned his head and glared for a moment at him. He pushed past Dean, making his way to the table in the back where Kristin was sitting waiting. He reached out his hand to hers. "Hi Ian Willison."

"Kristin, nice to meet you Mr. Willison," she stood up and took his hand.

"Please, call me Ian," Sam added before sitting down across from her at the table. Dean was close behind and took his seat as well. "I understand that you knew some of the victims? Is that right?"

"Yes, I mean I didn't know them all. But I knew of them all except for the last one." Sam had been a little hesitant about the meeting. They had made the mistake not to look into the actual victims but the place. And now it was going to come up, and they knew nothing about any of the victims except how they died. "The first one, Russ Waltz, he was only thirteen. He's really the only one I knew."

"And you knew him personally?" Dean cut in.

"Well, kind of. His mom works here, but we rarely see her anymore after his death and all. He was a pretty good kid, polite most of the time."

"Did he get into any trouble recently that you know of?" Sam inquired.

"Not really. I mean it when I say he's a good kid. I have a younger sister about his age; and well I asked her about him once. From what I've heard he doesn't get into anymore trouble than a thirteen year old should."

"Nothing strike him as odd to you?" Dean asked. This was getting a little too close to nothing than he liked.

"No not really, just normal I suppose." Dean leaned back with an annoyed sigh.

"Is he religious?" Sam pressed.

"No actually he's not. His mom is, to a certain extent."

"How's that?"

"She goes to church, but by herself. Russ doesn't go with her, he feels like he doesn't have much reason to believe in God; his dad died a few years ago from a stroke. But she's always, and I mean _always_ telling Russ and everyone that just because you can't see God or hear him, doesn't mean he doesn't exist. All this stuff about how you can't see happiness, but you can see someone smiling."

"She must've taken it pretty hard, losing her husband and then her child."

"Well, she and Russ' dad weren't together. I mean she still took it hard, but they weren't married, and didn't live together. Russ was actually living full time with his dad before he died."

"Why's that?"

"I'm not really sure cause Patty never really talked about it. You'd have to ask her."

"Can I get her information from you?" Sam asked. Kristin nodded as she wrote down Patty's number on a napkin and handed it to him.

"And the rest of them?" Dean asked.

"Like I said, I knew of them. There's Gordon Rimes, Mia Yost, and Don Eckert. But I didn't know them very well. I can only tell you what kind of coffee they ordered."

"Well thanks for your time," Dean added as he moved to get up.

"Sure thing, just let me know if I can help you anymore," Kristin said as she got up and made her way out the door.

"Alright, so Patty Waltz it is I suppose," Sam murmured as he followed Dean out of the café.

"Yeah, Waltz it is."


	5. Patty Cake

A/N

Haha, I am beyond doubt a loser. I have an idea for a sequel, now I just have to finish this. I'm more excited about the sequel though, I promise it's good. And I'm so excited for it, that I want to finish this even more. So, I'm putting more and more chapters up and I hope that excites you. I'll give you a hint for the sequel though- we're going to get more into Sam's thing with the ocean.

Chapter Five

Patty Waltz had been pretty easy to get a hold, and easier to get a meeting with. Sam pulled the impala into the driveway of a little house not far from their motel, and met Dean at the front door. After one knock, the door opened to reveal Patty Waltz. She looked to be in her forties, although Sam suspected that she looked older than she was from the dark circles that hung below her brown eyes and her graying hair.

"Hello, I suspect you are Mr. Louis and Mr. Willison," She moved to the side indicating they should come in. "Please come in. Can I get you anything?"

"No we're fine, thank you," Sam responded.

"So how can I help you young men?" Patty asked. She had a sweet voice; it almost reminded Dean of his own mother's.

"We're investigation the deaths at Mission San Carlos de Borromeo, and if it wasn't too much trouble, we were hoping to ask you about your son," Sam added. Dean had left the talking up to Sam. There was something so comforting about this woman, and for that Dean stopped to actually think about what this poor woman had gone through.

"Oh not at all. What do you need to know?"

"Was Russ in any trouble recently? Or doing anything different than usual?"

"I really couldn't tell you. He's only been living with me for the past year, he lived with his father full time before."

"And why's that?"

"Well, Russ and his father got along very well. His father and I, we were still friends after the divorce, but I still didn't see Russ much. He asked to live full time with his father, and we agreed that would be fine."

"You didn't want him to live with you?"

"No, that's not it at all. I love Russ, he's my son. He just didn't like living with me, I never really had enough money to give him much of anything. All that I could offer him was to come to church with me, but he said he didn't believe in God."

"And his father passed away recently?"

"Yes, just last year. Russ was devastated. But he came to live here."

"And he didn't believe in God before that?"

"No, his father didn't believe in God either. He looked up to his father, just like any other young boy. After his father died he told me he'd never go to church. He said that if God existed than his father wouldn't have died."

"And that was okay with you?"

"Frankly I was just happy that he came back to live with me, it was hard without him."

"How was school for him?" Dean made himself known again.

"It was alright. He's never been academically talented, but he got by. He used to have lots of friends, but right before he passed he had been spending time with some new kid."

"A new kid, did you ever meet him?"

"Oh no, Russ didn't bring his friends around here. He always went to the mission to meet his one friend. I suppose it was a popular spot."

"And this new friend came around when?"

"A few weeks ago I believe. Not too long, but they were pretty close. I guess he stopped hanging out with his other friends."

"What happened to the new kid now?"

"He's around I suppose. I haven't heard anything about him actually."

"Do you have a name for him?"

"James. James Hilf."

"Thanks for your time Mrs. Waltz," Sam ended quickly as both boys rose and shook Patty's hand. The boy's lead themselves out and made it back to the motel in record time. As soon as they entered the room, Sam was opening his laptop.

"Man, you're like a magnet," Dean smirked as he walked across the room and landed on the couch. "What'd you find?"

"James Hilf- not so alive."


	6. Brains not Beauty

A/N

Alright, I totally missed the part where the posts weren't working. So I've been slow and I thought this chapter was up. Here it is, enjoy. I'm leaving tomorrow, but I promised I'd finish the story before I left… so two more chapters? This is short, and they are going to be short. Sorry guys. Review please though!

Chapter Six

It was easy to track Hilf. Hilf wasn't a very common name, so they had found the address of any residing Hilf's easily. Sam walked up to the door first, and knocked. Unlike Patty Waltz, the woman at the door was clearly torn. She was a short woman, looking to be about 5'4", and little pudgy around the sides. She looked like she had yet to take a shower in two weeks.

"Mrs. Hilf?" Sam asked in his most polite voice.

"Who's asking?" the woman was quick, and sharp. Her voice was edgy and rough, much different than Patty Waltz.

"Mrs. Hilf, I'm a private investigator. Ian Willison," Sam noted. It was better if they used the same fake ID names in small towns. He turned his shoulder to motion towards Dean. "And this is my partner Andrew Louis. We're investigating the deaths at Mission San Carlos de Borromeo, and we'd like to have a word with you."

The door swung open as the woman walked away motioning for the boys to follow her. The house was disastrous, quite the opposite of the pristine look Patty Waltz held in her little house.

"How long have you been living in this area Mrs. Hilf?" Sam was in no moods for small talk.

"About four months. Why? I presume you're here to ask me if we had any involvement?" Mrs. Hilf huffed. "You people, always think the people with the worst living are doing the worst crimes."

"Actually, we've come to ask you about a James Hilf," Dean cut in. At the mention of his name, the woman stiffened.

"Why?"

"What was your relation to James Hilf?" Sam inquired.

"Stepson. Why?"

"What happened to James?" Sam pressed on.

"James died in a freak accident, nothing more to it." She was getting tense, and Dean was quick to notice.

"Can you explain the accident to us, Mrs. Hilf?" Sam kept pressing. She looked at them reluctantly and Sam almost thought he wouldn't get an answer.

"He died at that mission."

"How so?"

"They think he killed himself." Alright, so not so much freak accident.

"And why would he do that, Mrs. Hilf?" Dean could not believe the intensity that Sam's voice held. He was shocked that the kid had killed himself, and yet Sam seemed unfazed. "Mrs. Hilf, I need you to answer my question."

"Because he had no friends, his mother died. His father left and took his sister with him. And James was left with me."

……….

"People are starting to make me sick," was the first thing Dean said to break the silence. They were once again at the motel, and Sam was once again tapping away on the laptop.

"Alright here it is. James Hilf, a young sixteen year old boy died. It says he killed himself with self-inflicted poison."

"I repeat, people are starting to make me sick."

"But the people at the mission died of infected mosquito bites."

"Sam, 'mosquito bites' could be something else. If they got infected, that's another way to say there was poison in the blood right?"

"Good point, but why would they mistaken it for mosquito bites?"

"Because they didn't look into it. I already told you, _they_ do crack police work."

"But Dean-"

"No but's Sam. Look up the ages of all the other victims will you?" Sam gave Dean a confused look, but did so anyways.

"13, 13, 14, and 15."

"Jack pot baby."


	7. James, James, James

A/N

I swear to you all that I tried writing. I'm trying, I honestly am. I'm sorry for the shortness, and the horribleness. But bare with me, I think you'll find that the shorter is better, because it brings us closer to the end seeing as there is only one chapter left. I tried, I failed, and we move on. It's part of life, so we recognize it and keep moving.

Chapter Seven

"Excuse me?" Sam replied, he had gone back to looking to the computer screen, vaguely paying attention to Dean's figure. "Dean, you didn't win a fucking lottery."

"Oh but I did," Dean responded with a smirk on his face. His favorite part of the hunt was always the end. It was generally the most exciting, and most rewarding part. "Look at the ages of the kids. How old was Jamesy boy?"

"James Hilf was," Sam paused as he started typing again. "James was sixteen years old. He died three weeks ago."

"And Waltz died two weeks ago right?"

"Correct," Sam confirmed.

"Where's James buried? Let's salt and burn those bones and get the hell out of here." When Sam didn't reply right away, Dean kept talking. "New rule- we never stay in the same place for more than a week tops. I'm sick of Grandma and Grandpa; they move to slow, so I can see why you like it here. But I'm living on the fast track buddy, and we need to keep moving-"

"It says Hilf did not receive a funeral, Mrs. Hilf refused to talk to any outsiders, and apparently she buried him in her back yard herself."

"Great, we have to go back to that dump," Dean said as he picked up his coat and made his way out the door. "Pick up the pace Gramps."

………………

It had been tricky, moving around the dump of a backyard trying to find the grave. Dean didn't even try to be stealthy this time; he marched right through the shit that lay around. Sam tried to keep it quiet, there was nothing about Mrs. Hilf that said come again, and Sam didn't want to test her. They tried to be quick. Dean found the grave first. It was pretty sad for a grave- a cardboard strip hung up as the tombstone. Dean moved in closer to read what it said. _James W. Hilf 1990-2006 'Strive because you can, not because they make you'_. It was written in sharpie, and for a second Dean felt remorse towards the poor kid and the step mother. But it left as soon as it came, as Dean scanned the grave over again. The grave was towards the back by a tree. There were rocks outlining where the coffin would lay five feet under.

Sam made his way standing next to Dean. As he looked over his shoulder back towards the house, Dean started digging. It was a long dig even though there were two of them. Neither boy had expected it to take so long, but it did. Sam glanced worriedly towards the house just waiting to Mrs. Hilf to come bursting out, but she never did. And Dean smirked as he watched Sam freak out about the situation. Soon Dean hit something hard.

"Aww man I hate this," Dean said as he turned his head slightly.

"What?" Sam asked casually.

"No coffin, that means we have to find all the bones first."

"Fuck, alright you keep digging and hand me the bones when you find them."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to assemble them." And that's what they did. Dean set to finding the bones and handing them to Sam, while Sam put all the bones together making sure they had every last one. It took a while, but when it was all done they were grateful. Dean salted and burned the bones quickly and they were off. Once they were settled in the impala again and driving away from the Hilf property the silence was finally broken. Dean glanced at Sam before he turned back to the road, guiding the car smoothly along the turns.

"We came, we conquered, and now we move on."


	8. Epilogue

A/N

Alright here it is. Hope you enjoy it. Read the A/N from chapter seven for anything delightful haha. And, I will start the sequel on the trip, when I get back, sometime in the next two weeks. But, if I don't die before my trip is over, well I'll be back.

Chapter Eight

They had stopped back at the motel for showers and then headed out. Dean was intent on leaving as soon as possible, and that is exactly what they did.

"So what was the deal with that kid?" Sam asked breaking the silence of the car.

"Um, I don't really care," Dean shrugged as he continued. "But I'm guessing the kid was taking his anger out of his horrible life on some other kids. I don't know, they probably made fun of him or something stupid like that."

"So, I guess Old Man Serra wasn't really a catch huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Silence filled the impala as they drove around the curve. "Hey Sam?"

"Yeah Dean?" Sam responded as his eyes shifted towards Dean for a second, and then back at the road.

"You know it's your crack research that got us mixed up in the first place," Dean said waving a finger towards Sam in the driver's seat.

"Dean-"

"I always knew I was better at research." And with that Dean earned a smack on the back of his head. "Hey, two hands on the wheel College Boy, two hands."

Dean grinned as he looked out the window. The first thing he noticed was the ocean, the very same one as years before.

_"Dean," the voice was soft, sweet, but ecstatic._

_"What Sammy?" He didn't have time for this. John was waiting out in the car, they were going out on the hunt. But Dean had to make sure Sam would be okay first, before they left, just in case. _

_"When you get back, will you teach me how to swim?" Dean looked at Sammy oddly. His eyes were big, and brown, and filled with that puppy dog look he had perfected. But there was something else; there was hope, wonder, and excitement for something so new and strange. _

_"Sure Sammy," Dean replied as he pulled the covers tight up to the younger boy's chin. "But not tonight, go to sleep and when you wake up I'll be right here. And then tomorrow I'll teach you." Dean got up as he shut off the light and made his way to the motel room door. _

_"Promise?" the little voice squeaked out between a yawn._

_"I promise." Looking back at the now asleep figure once more, Dean opened the door and made his way out._

"Hey Dean?" Sam's voice brought Dean out of his daze.

"Mmm?"

"Thanks." They both knew what for, but neither spoke it. Dean looked at Sam and smirked. And then he smacked Sam.

"Hey, hey, hey, what was that for?"

"Because I can."


End file.
